


Times of war

by WahlBuilder



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Politics, set Abundance on fire, sitting and talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 06:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20149015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Abundance brings a new bill into force, with an announcement from the Doswer himself.Ian sets out to find Anton, worrying that his friend might not have taken the bill and the announcement well.





	Times of war

**Author's Note:**

> aka "Wahl Got Angry At The News Again"

Ian hopes that he knows enough of the private sides of Anton to find him.

Vlasta, face drawn and eyes bright with too little sleep, waves down. “Below.” Ian doubts the Vory can give him more than that: when Anton doesn’t want to be found, the city swallows him completely, and even Alex can’t track him.

Ian hopes he is allowed to find him.

He’s geared up in the light armor under the guise of a Rogue jacket, and has taken a gun with him instead of his staff, pulled a hood to hide his face, rubbed soot onto his wires to prevent light glinting off them. He goes down into the Underworks near Anton’s office.

Sometimes Anton leaves when he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, when he feels that his control is slipping. He is infamous for his rage just as for his brilliance.

Not many know that he hides when he’s in too much pain.

Ian wonders whether he should abandon his search right away, give Anton time — but the prospect of leaving his friend with his own dark thoughts is unbearable. Ian has a duty, as the elder, as someone who loves Anton.

So he continues. He tries to check all the places they have visited in the Underworks together, the places that are safe and can admit a man as big as Anton. Anton is very energetic usually and knows the Underworks like no-one else, so he can cover great distances through paths known only to him. It will be hard.

Ian tries to avoid confrontation with the local fauna and flora, and to not look at strange lights and sounds. He considers charging his light tube. He feels that he’s been at it for a couple of hours.

“Don’t turn your light on.”

He looks around. The area is cavernous by the feeling of it, and dark, and there is a rhythmic low noise that puts him on edge.

“Why did you come?” Anton’s voice sounds strange, playing in echoes, leading senses astray — as though the city itself is talking.

“Antek. I’m worried. Your kiddies are worried.”

“Wanted to be alone, is all. I’ll return. I always do.” A few taps — and a light comes to life.

It’s a “thieves’ lantern” — a sphere filled with jelly gas, much like the tube on Ian’s shoulder, only glowing with greenish-white instead of Ian’s blue-white, and it is activated by tapping a certain rhythm on it. It is usually worn on a chain, and can be broken against a hard surface, letting out the gas that reeks so strongly it makes some people faint — giving a Vor plenty of time to get away. Aside from the reek it is harmless. Anton’s people have to kill sometimes, but they are not killers.

The glow illuminates Anton’s figure, wedged between an old, bent gate and the rocky wall. Ian moves carefully, sits down on the floor in front of Anton, puts the gun close under his hand — in case some mole decides that they are a nice snack.

Anton smiles, though it’s more a grimace. Glances away. He doesn’t seem to get much sleep these days. Ian’s heart clenches in sympathy. Anton glances at him again. “Привет, Янчик.”

“Привет.”

Anton pulls his knees to his chest, wraps his arms around them, and light — not from the sphere but somewhere else — glimmers in the eyes and the bared fangs of the cat ring on Anton’s left hand.

“You know,” Anton says, his husky voice rough, “it is telling, how fucked up things are, that I’d like them to return to considering us just a statistic. But now, we are… parasites. Weak and… To be destroyed over and over…” He takes a shuddering breath, eyes bright and skipping over things.

_“They will die like cockroaches.”_ The Dowser’s heated words have spread far by now.

Anton takes another breath, wet in his throat. “We are not even people to them.” Tears well up and flow down his cheeks — so easy, down the already-there wet tracks. “My kiddies, their families, other gangs — we are not people to care for, Janek, and not numbers to put on paper — we are something they despise, an annoyance…” He drops his face in his palm.

Few know that Anton hides when he’s scared.

The moments stretch. Anton snorts after a while, wipes his face. “You know, I’m surprised our glorious leader didn’t propose to blow up the shields. Why waste bullets when they can let the sun do the job? But maybe they don’t want to be conflated with the OA. Bad for the public image.”

The new bill gives the Army, the Bureau — all governmental security agencies an exemption — gives them the go-ahead to kill “criminals” with impunity. No detainments, no arrests, no trial — just kill on sight at the sign of a threat. Gang colors and symbols, those tokens of pride, an important part of the intricate Slums politics and the balance of power — they are now target markers. Sex workers, couriers, petty thieves — all are equal in the eyes of the law. The equality of… cockroaches.

“They used to kill us before, under the pretense of self-defense and public safety,” Anton says quietly. “Extorted money, from those who had so little, just for the faint promise to not hurt them, to let their children go. We have our own statistics, Janek. Sixty percent of those killings were young men from eighteen to twenty-four years of age.”

And Ez is twenty-one.

“But I made it stop,” Anton whispers, his face terrible. “I made each and every one of them fear that, if they shoot a kid and plant a gun on him, Anton Rogue would know, and would find them, drag them out and skin them alive. If they want war,” he growls, “there will be war.”

“Drag it into a court,” Ian says. He _knows_ that in this war, Anton would be on the front lines, would skin _himself_ alive just to help his people. But to turn against Abundance like this…

Anton snorts. “Janek, I know you spend most of your days in the Chapel now, but certainly you understand that courts and judges are independent from the Assembly and the Dowser and the elites only on paper.”

“Not all of them. Leave Ophir for that. Echus, Baetes, Stege — they all have courts that are equal with Ophirian courts in power, at least on paper. Stall the bill. It’s against the UNM Declaration, not to mention a swath of Abundance laws.”

“Formally, I don’t even exist. Can’t bring it to the court.”

“Bring it as a collective suit. Imagine the headlines,” he gestures broadly: “Vory vs. Abundance Corp. And… you have allies.”

Anton shakes his head. “Janek, I appreciate your support, but I know you have no formal power, though informal power is good, too.”

“You are right, I don’t — Viktor has.”

Anton lifts his brows. “Colonel Viktor.”

“Yes, Director Watcher. I would have thought he’d be the first to cheer for the bill — but in fifteen minutes of the announcement he issued a warning to all branches that the agents will arrest anyone and everyone who uses this bill to cover their ass. I don’t know what Viktor’s angle is here, maybe he wanted this power all to himself — but for now, you two are allies over it.”

By Anton’s astonished expression he understands Anton is surprised by the very thought. Then Anton’s face turns sharp. Strategising already. Good. Anton isn’t afraid anymore. The one who should be afraid is the Dowser, for spouting that abhorrent filth.

If Abundance things she can control Anton or terrorize him into submission, she should be prepared for a big disappointment.

“Cockroaches?” Anton says in his smooth husk. “I’ll show them cockroaches.” He gets up. “Come, Janek, I’ll get you out. I have a meeting with another colonel to arrange.”


End file.
